


lean in

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Pumpkin Carving, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mario Kart, Slice of Life, Social Media, YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 23:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11451576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: Jace is in the kitchen when Simon goes in to get a glass of water. He’s hunched over a chopping board, wearing nothing but boxers and a white shirt, and he looks exhausted but determined, eyes slightly unfocused as he chops up onions with considerate care. Simon whips his camera out of his back pocket and holds it up, flicking the switch and making hushing sounds as he zooms in on Jace’s face, lowering his voice to a whisper. His viewers are going tolovethis.“Ladies and gentlemen, we have an honoured guest for tonight’s show, standing in his natural habitat, wearing what can only be described as his finest attire.”Jace barely bats an eyelid as Simon creeps closer, the camera wobbling slightly for effect.“And here we have the famous Lightwood scowl, otherwise referred to as Jace’s default expression.”“It is when you’re around,” Jace says, shoving the camera away.





	lean in

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that video of Alberto zooming in on Dom's face while he eats cereal, saying cute things. I love them so much. I stole the melon and soup bit from the books, because that's my favourite scene from them, but it's different in this. I hope you like it! Thank you!

Jace is in the kitchen when Simon goes in to get a glass of water. He’s hunched over a chopping board, wearing nothing but boxers and a white shirt, and he looks exhausted but determined, eyes slightly unfocused as he chops up onions with considerate care. Simon whips his camera out of his back pocket and holds it up, flicking the switch and making hushing sounds as he zooms in on Jace’s face, lowering his voice to a whisper. His viewers are going to _love_ this.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have an honoured guest for tonight’s show, standing in his natural habitat, wearing what can only be described as his finest attire.”

Jace barely bats an eyelid as Simon creeps closer, the camera wobbling slightly for effect.

“And here we have the famous Lightwood scowl, otherwise referred to as Jace’s default expression.”

“It is when you’re around,” Jace says, shoving the camera away. “Go away, I’m trying to cook pasta. And you’re not supposed to be in the kitchen, either, not since the last time you tried to cook in here and it ended in complete disaster.”

Simon turns the camera around to capture his insulted look and lays a hand over his heart, offended. “I feel slighted, sir, at the accusation in your tone. Anyone would think that trying to cook you a romantic meal after a hard day at work was a crime.”

The camera flips back around. Jace’s expression turns pained at the word _romantic_. “Simon, for the last time, _stop_ encouraging your viewers. We are not in a relationship. And your cooking literally fused my mouth together.”

“Kinky.”

“That doesn’t even make any _sense_. You’ve set fire to the microwave, you stuck a knife in the toaster trying to rescue one of those disgusting pop-tarts of yours, and you never remember to put the lid on the blender, so we’re definitely never going to get our security deposit back, not with all the disgusting stains on the ceiling. Now, get out of my kitchen.”

“Our kitchen, mon Cherie, our kitchen, and I only—”

“Out, _now_.”

Simon races out of the kitchen, camera held aloft, as Jace brandishes a knife at him. He collapses on the couch and turns the camera back around so he can hold a finger up and say, “Let it never be said that I don’t have a sense of self-preservation.” He pauses, and then shrugs. “I’ll try again in a few minutes.”

*

“This is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” Simon whispers. The camera is aimed at the couch, which has been pushed closer to the television, and both Clary and Jace are leaning forward, controllers clutched in their hands as they stare furiously at the screen.

“No, guys, you don’t understand how scared I am right now,” Simon says, flailing an arm towards the scene in front of him. “These are two of the most terrifying people I’ve ever met in my life. Jace looks like he could kill you with his jaw and I’ve seen him down half a bottle of tabasco bottle without blinking, right? And Clary, she may seem like the sweet and innocent type, but she’s actually the kind of person who laughs maniacally when you fall off the stage during a middle-school performance – not that we’re talking about that, no siree – but anyway, terrifying. And even more terrifying? _They’re playing Mario-Kart_.”

There’s an inhuman screech from the couch and Simon winces. He turns the camera around in time to see Jace launch himself forward, mashing buttons, whilst Clary swears violently.

“Not the blue shell!” Jace yells. “Not the blue shell! Fuck!”

“That’s the most passionate I’ve ever heard him,” says Simon. “And that includes in the bedroom.”

“Simon! Fucking – no, don’t you dare get a bullet, don’t you _dare_ – stop telling people we’re together! We aren’t together!”

Clary cackles wildly as she zooms past Jace to take first place, and Simon cringes again at the sound Jace makes.

“Sounds like a sheep and a whale mating,” he mutters, and Jace throws him an alarmed look over his shoulder, just as a red shell clips him and sends him flying.

“Simon!”

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” Clary tells him, grinning fiercely. “You’re distracting him. That’s perfect, just one more second – got it! Ha!” She cheers loudly, throwing the controller down and waving her hands in the air. “I _told_ you I’d wipe the floor with you.”

Jace stares at her incredulously as the television shows a loop of them all getting hit with shells, the cheerful music obviously grating on his nerves as he grinds his teeth. Simon’s seen that expression before; it means Jace is about five seconds away from killing everyone in the room.

“You were in twelfth place the entire time! You only won because of the damn bullet!”

Clary smiles sweetly, and Simon turns the camera off just as Jace lunges.

*

Grocery shopping is an _adventure_.

Simon lives for Tuesdays, when they go grocery shopping. He drives his shitty van and makes Jace hold the camera while he sings along to whatever happens to be on the radio, and they both pile into the supermarket at ass o’clock in the morning, because if they do it any later than Jace will be too tired for his evening shift at the bar a few blocks away from their apartment. Plus, Simon uses the afternoons to film videos for his channel and edit his vlog material, so the morning works best for them both.

Sometimes, though, Simon gets this vague idea that Jace would rather he stayed in the van most mornings.

“Put it back,” Jace commands him, when Simon creeps towards the cart with an armful of pop-tarts. “Those things will rot your stomach.”

Simon bribed him with tea beforehand, and now Jace is reluctantly holding the camera out in front of him, recording the pleading look on Simon’s face.

“They’re good for the soul, though,” Simon adds, inching closer.

“How do you still have any teeth?”

“I brush twice a day, thank you very much. Sometimes three times, if I eat something gross, or drink something fizzy. I can’t stand fizzy drinks on my teeth.”

“Then why do you drink them by the _gallon?”_

“Because they taste like fresh ambrosia, Lightwood, that’s why. Now come on, let me have one packet.”

Jace wheels the cart a little further away from him and crosses his arms over his chest. The footage is going to be awful from that shot, but Simon watches the muscles bulge in his arms, not bothering to hide his appreciation, and decides he doesn’t care. Jace sighs in exasperation.

“Just put the pop-tarts back and go and get me some spinach, will you? Make sure it’s the stuff in the bag, because I already have a meal planned for tonight, and I don’t want to waste fresh food.”

Simon drops a packet of pop-tarts in horror. “ _Spinach?_ ”

Jace rolls his eyes and wheels the cart away from them, heading towards the soup aisle. He chucks the camera at Simon, who has to drop half of his pop-tarts to stop it crashing to the floor, and the result is him scrambling around one-handed to pick them up whilst a shop assistant looks on in growing alarm. Once the pop-tarts are back on a shelf and the shop assistant has wandered off to deal with some other hapless human, Simon turns the camera around to catch a glimpse of his face and starts to talk.

“See, Jace sounds like a master-chef when he talks about things like spinach, but the truth is, I’m not entirely sure he was a real boy before we got a flat together. Jace, tell the people what your first meal was in our house?”

Jace grits his teeth, but Simon can see a little blush heating his cheeks, and it makes him grin. “Soup and a melon.”

“Soup and a melon,” Simon repeats, still grinning widely, as Jace piles three cans of chicken noodle soup into the cart and then heads for the fruit and veg section. “And the best part is, he didn’t know how to cook the soup, so he just ate it cold out of a can. And I had to cut up the melon for him, but that was mostly because I didn’t trust him with a knife around me yet. So yeah, this whole spinach-loving, kale-forcing-down-my-throat persona is just an act, guys, because Jace Lightwood is, in fact, just as hopeless as the rest of us.”

A lettuce narrowly avoids hitting Simon in the cheek by an inch, and he drops his camera.

*

Izzy steals his phone and his coffee as soon as she sits down, and Simon pulls a face at her. He picked a booth in the far corner, away from prying eyes, and he’s wearing a cap over his eyes and a grey sweater. Simon isn’t vastly popular, but he still has over a million subscribers, and sometimes he gets spotted by people who know a few of his favourite places.

Izzy opens his phone with a few swift clicks and then poses, pouting as she takes a picture and puts it on Simon’s snapchat story. He has a public and a private snapchat, and three guesses as to which one Izzy just put the picture up on. She likes to take advantage of Simon’s followers, despite having a pretty famous Instagram account of her own.

“Now, let me take one of you for my Insta,” Izzy says.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Simon says. “Why is it that the first thing you do when you see me is grab my phone? Most people get a hug or a kiss on the cheek, but no, I get theft.”

Izzy rolls her eyes and dutifully leans over to kiss him on the cheek. She smells strongly of citrusy perfume, and the scent goes up his nose, making him sneeze. Izzy laughs at him and then pulls her phone out of her pocket to take a picture. Simon ducks his head but grins, still, and Izzy snaps a picture and then posts it regardless of how much he says he hates it.

Jace likes the picture within ten seconds, and Izzy’s grin turns slightly feral.

“Man, that boy has it bad.”

“Jace can barely stand me,” Simon points out, ignoring the look on her face. “We argue all the time, and he’s on a health-food kick at the minute, so I’m not allowed to eat Ben and Jerry’s at four in the morning anymore.”

Izzy dismisses him with a wave of her hand, sipping at his drink. “Those are coupley arguments. Clary and I had one of those the other day, when she opened a new milk while the old one was still half-full and in date. They aren’t real quarrels, and they don’t mean anything.” She taps her phone. “This, though, this means something.”

“Him liking your Instagram picture doesn’t mean anything,” Simon protests. He snatches his drink back and takes a gulp, feeling a flush spread across his cheeks. He tells himself it’s just because it’s warm in the café, but truthfully the air conditioning is on, and it’s a cold day.

“No, but everything else does,” Izzy points out. “He’s in every single one of your videos. Your videos are so domestic it almost makes me want to puke. Clary almost cried the other day at the one of you two holding the rabbits in the pet shop. She wanted you to adopt one and name it Cornelius.”

Simon pauses. “Cornelius?”

“She’s my girlfriend, but she’s your best friend, you figure it out,” Izzy shrugs. “I certainly couldn’t. Anyway, the point is, you should see the way he looks at you in those videos.”

She then proceeds to spend the entire coffee date showing Simon every fond look that Jace has ever thrown at him, and every teasing comment Simon’s ever made in return. It’s kind of awful, and a whole lot enlightening, and he spends most of it with his sweater pulled up over his mouth, hiding his face in his hands while Izzy talks loudly about how they need to get their heads out of their asses and date already.

“Magnus says if he has to watch one more sappy video when he knows you two aren’t together, he’s going to send you pictures of Alec holding puppies.”

Simon stares at her in horror. “I didn’t think such a thing existed.”

Izzy nods solemnly. “They exist. They’re adorable.”

Simon whimpers.

*

Simon doesn’t usually post proper sit-down videos. He posts vlogs, usually, and uploads shorts little snippets of his day, most of which include his friends, because Simon maintains that if he didn’t have his friends, he probably wouldn’t have a channel. He said that once in a vlog and the comments _exploded_.

But no, he doesn’t usually post long, thought-out videos with a script and a plot, but this time he’s going to, if only because it’s Halloween and Halloween deserves a little respect, goddamnit.

Although it’s possible that he shouldn’t have gotten drunk _before_ he started filming.

“Okay, guys – and gals, that’s very important, and any non-binary people out there as well, I can’t forget you guys – oh shit, I did it again – hey, is ‘guys’ a non-gender specific term, do you think?”

 “Simon, focus. We have to focus.”

“Shit, yeah. Focusing, like my camera is, right now, ha! Ha, high-five me Jace. Jace, high-five me right now. Right now.”

Jace squints at him, a drink halfway to his lips, and then holds his hand up to high-five him. Even mostly drunk, he manages to make the action look derisive and slightly insulting. They miss, but Simon rolls right on past the awkwardness, because that’s just what he does – hey, his _life_ is like, eighty percent awkwardness, so if he didn’t roll on past it then he would probably grind to a halt and not move for six years, stuck in a perpetual state of mortification.

“Tell the people what we’re doing today, Lightwood,” Simon commands him, holding up a pumpkin and a bottle of alcohol as some sort of subtle clue.

“Playing with knives,” Jace says gleefully.

Simon inches a little further away from him on the bed. “No. No, that’s not what we’re doing. If you all want a video of Jace messing around with knives – wow, that would probably be really hot, wouldn’t it?” Jace covers his eyes with his hands, but there’s a little smirk on his face that says _yes, it really would be hot and I know it._ “Anyway, let me know if you want that, and I’ll stand ten feet away with a bubble-wrap suit on. But what we are doing today is carving pumpkins. While extremely drunk.”

Jace squints at the camera. “I think you’re probably supposed to get drunk during the video, not before it. Do you even have any whiskey left?”

“Please, as if I have anything as fancy as whiskey in this bottle.” Simon pauses and sniffs the alcohol, reeling back in disgust. “Okay, so, I’m not too sure what’s actually in here, but it smells vile, which means it should work pretty well.”

Jace pulls a face. “You don’t even know what we’ve been drinking.”

“Well, you don’t either!”

“Oh, that’s mature, Simon.”

“Guys,” Alec says, popping his head around the door with a pissed-off expression on his face. “I came here to make sure you two didn’t drown in your own vomit, not to listen to you call each other names before you’ve even gotten past the intro. Are you actually going to start carving anytime soon?”

Jace leans into the camera with a sage expression on his face. “Alec’s just pissed because it’s Halloween, and Magnus probably has a hundred different costumes to try on, and he’s not there to see it.”

“Sexy, sexy costumes,” Simon says, waggling his eyebrows.

Alec’s eyebrows morph into one as he scowls at them. “Just film your video so I can _leave_.”

“Okay, pumpkin carving time!” Simon says gleefully. He cradles the biggest pumpkin close to his chest. “This one’s mine.”

Jace arches an eyebrow. “Compensating for something?”

Simon scowls and pushes the smaller pumpkin towards Jace, who takes it with a smirk and flicks the knife open in a way that’s practically guaranteed to make all of his viewers faint, and then stabs it down through the top of the pumpkin. There’s a few minutes of grunting and giggling on Simon’s part before the top of the pumpkin comes away smoothly, and Simon waves the dangly pumpkin seeds in Jace’ face. Jace swats him away with a look of disgust, barely able to hide his own grin.

“This is the gross bit,” Simon informs the camera. “We have to scoop out all of the gross seedy stuff. I brought spoons, so we can…”

He trails off as Jace shoves an entire hand inside his pumpkin and removes a fistful of pumpkin goo, dropping it in the plastic bags Simon prepared earlier.

“Or we could just do that, sure,” Simon says agreeably, and puts his spoon down. “The rule is, every time you get pumpkin seeds anywhere that’s not in the bag, you have to take a drink. A big drink. None of that sipping shit I know you’ll try and get away with.”

Jace, who’s in the midst in wiping pumpkin seeds on Simon’s bedspread, pauses and sighs deeply. Simon hands him the bottle and then takes a drink of his own in solidarity.

It takes half an hour before the pumpkins are ready to be shown to the world, and Alec comes in the observe with the most deadpan expression on his face, arms crossed over his chest and one foot tapping impatiently against the floor. Simon isn’t fooled, though, he saw Alec grin when Jace started singing under his breath a few minutes ago. He knows there’s a soft, gooey centre under all that badass-ness. Just like Jace is secretly a giant marshmallow who plays the piano.

“Show us your great masterpieces then,” Alec says drolly.

Simon giggles slightly, thoroughly drunk, and holds his pumpkin close to his chest. “Okay, okay, guess what it is, first.”

“I bet it’s something dorky, like the Batman symbol or something.”

Simon puffs himself up indignantly and then deflates sadly. “How did you know?”

Jace stares at him blankly, and then reaches over to flip Simon’s pumpkin around, revealing a very wonky Batman symbol. There’s a little line leading off from the wing where Simon got carried away with the knife, but other than that, he thinks it’s a pretty damn good representation of the symbol. Or at least he does until Jace starts laughing.

Alec smirks. “It took you half an hour to carve _that?”_  

Simon scowls. “Works of art take time, Lightwood. Come on then, show the people what you’ve done.”

Jace turns the pumpkin around with the most placid, unsuspecting look on his face, and Simon shrieks and covers the pumpkin with his hands, reaching back to grab a pillow to hide it under. “Dude, I can’t show my viewers that! I can’t show anyone that!”

Alec peers a little closer, his cheeks slightly red. “It’s very anatomically correct. Did you print out pictures to work with?”

“Always bring source material,” Jace confirms, holding up several sheets of printer paper, and Simon shrieks again.

*

Simon is lying in wait for Jace, his phone poised at the ready, when the front door opens. Jace catches sight of Simon lounging on the couch and smiles, and then scowls when he spots the phone.

“Why are you filming?” Jace asks suspiciously. “What have you done?”

Simon pulls a mock-offended look and puts a hand over his heart. “Moi? Nothing! No, really, I haven’t done anything. I was just waiting for you to come home.”

“With your phone out?”

“Where have you been?” Simon asks, sidestepping the question with a grin. Jace immediately turns to hide his face, fiddling with the lock on the door. “Hanging out on street corners? Working out at the gym? Preying on unsuspecting demons of the night like the secret vigilante that you are? I’m sure it’s something really cool, isn’t it?”

He knows _exactly_ where Jace has been, but his viewers don’t.

“You know where I’ve been,” Jace says, turning to glare at Simon. He puts his back down on the floor and crosses the room to shove Simon’s legs off the couch, sitting down. Simon puts his legs back up on Jace’ lap and fondly reminisces of a time when Jace would have chopped them off if he did that. Not that he wants things to go back to the way they were, but it’s nice to remember, to see how far they’ve come.

Jace puts a hand on Simon’s ankle, rubs at the slip of skin between his jeans and his socks. It’s nice, and comforting, but Simon can’t let the conversation go without some kind of satisfying resolution.

“So, did you have a nice time in this mystery secret place you’ve been galivanting off to?”

“Every time you open your mouth, a little bit of me withers away and dies,” Jace muses, and Simon kicks him. “ _What_ , Simon?”

“Just tell the people where you’ve been.”

“The people don’t need to know about my book club,” Jace says impatiently, and then he snaps his mouth closed with a click whilst Simon lets out a hoot of laughter. He clamps his mouth shut against an onslaught of giggles as Jace fixes him with a baleful glare.

“I’m not making fun of you,” Simon protests, still shaking a little with laughter. “I think it’s sweet. Do all the little old ladies pinch your cheeks and feed you toffees?”

Jace pinches the bridge of his nose and then sighs, giving in and producing three sherbet lemons from his jacket pocket. Simon laughs himself breathless, the camera shaking, while Jace looks on, something in his eyes that could possibly be considered fond.

“You’re the most adorable thing in the world,” Simon says, cackling. “I love that you go to book club and play Mario-kart badly and play piano. You’re just as dorky as me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jace says, but he’s smiling as he wrestles the camera away from him to catch a glimpse of Simon on film, red-faced and tousled, breathless with laughter.

*

Simon posts a video on a Sunday morning, and it goes viral. It’s of the previous night, where Simon’s leaning against the doorframe with his camera in his hand, focused in on Jace, who’s back is turned. He’s sat at the large white piano, dressed in black, his golden hair roughly tousled, and he’s humming under his breath as he presses light, careful fingers to the keys. The room is semi-dark, one candle lit on the windowsill, and Jace is bathed in the yellow light of a streetlamp just outside, turning him gold.

It’s one of the most beautiful things Simon’s ever seen. He stays quiet, listening.

When the song finishes, Jace stretches out the kinks in his neck before turning, visibly startling when he spots Simon. His smile turns soft, private, even with the camera present. It’s not a smile for the viewers. It’s a smile only for Simon, and he wonders how he’s never really noticed it before. He’s been noticing a lot of things more recently, while he’s editing film, while he’s taking pictures and just generally observing Jace, and the way he interacts with Simon. He’s noticed that softness around his eyes, the crinkle at the corners when he laughs at something Simon’s said. He seems fond, caring, maybe even loving.

Jace is always so passionate, so driven and strong. In a lot of ways they mesh well, and in a lot of ways they’re too similar to really get along, but somehow they’ve managed to make each other softer without stripping away the vital parts of themselves. It’s something that Simon doesn’t want to let go of, now that he has it, and he’s just now figuring it out. All the jokes, all the sweet little comments about how much he likes Jace, how much he wants to be with him, be disgustingly romantic with him – it’s all true. It’s all something he _wants_. He wants Jace.

He puts the camera down on the surface of the piano and sits down on the stool beside Jace, who watches him with an unnameable expression, half fearful and half expectant, like he’s stewing in anticipation, waiting for the right moment, the right second to lean in.

Simon leans in too.

The first brush of lips is careful, cautious. Jace’ hands come up to cradle Simon’s face reverently in his palms, thumbs smoothing over Simon’s cheekbones, and Simon tilts his head slightly, opens his mouth a little, lets the kiss turn soft and deep.

They pull back, but not far, breathing heavily. Jace’ eyes are dark and wanting, and Simon shivers a little, darts in to kiss him again, quickly, before he turns to the camera with a blinding grin, and switches it off.

 

**Author's Note:**

> How was that? I hope you liked it! Please leave comments/kudos on your way out, I'd love to hear from you! And come say hello on tumblr @thealmostrhetoricalquestion. Thank you!


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